A King Of Infinite Space
by skiffle
Summary: Spike's what in the what-ment?
1. Do You Remember

"Do you remember me?" She asked, and he was trying, he really was, but…

"No, I – I don't. I'm sorry." He saw her tense, and her nightshift rustled as she stepped forward with dirty bare feet. She was beautiful, small. She shone.

"I remember you" she hissed, "Quite well."

__

It's a dream. He thought frantically – _I can't really be seeing…_

"Are you in my head?" He whispered, and she smiled sadly.

"I am in the ground." 

He knew then that he had put her there.

*****

There was no way to be sure of where he was. It was dark, but that didn't narrow things down much. It wasn't caves. The walls were flat, mostly, and there were rooms with… things. Things he didn't want to think about. Himself being one of them.

__

Aww, feeling a little self-loathing, are we? Poor, poor William, whata wretched boy. Remind you of anyone?

"SHUT UP!" He yelled, and cringed as his voice bounced sharply off the walls.

He'd woken up here, not too long ago. Wandered around enough to know he'd gone to sleep in one place and awoken in another. Feeling quite…disoriented. _Guilty_. Now he needed to find a way out, find food. _Blood._ He felt an uncomfortable twinge.

"Yeah, blood. You _idiot_!" He sighed. Talking to himself. Hmm…bad sign. "What did you expect, chicken wings?" _No, not blood, he didn't want—_

"I'm pretty sure I told you to shut up." _Shh! Voices! Do you hear?_

"…get to the pipes this way." A voice was saying. So he crept now, quietly. He was good at that, years of practice makes motherfucking perfect, after all.

"This passage isn't even on the blueprints." _A man._

"Yeah it is, look." _Another man. Americans. America? OK then…_

A rustle of stiff paper. "That's the storage room. There's the stairway—" _Stairway!_

Suddenly, all he could hear was the dull thud of his own body hitting the dirt floor. He didn't even have time to curse before the crushing blackness pulled him down.

*****


	2. Mercy

Author's Note: This strange little fic is the fruit of my recent all-encompassing fascination with Spike, and many edgy sleepless nights while waiting for replies from colleges. It is a work in progress and my very first public attempt at bringing a story together, so please be gentle with my ego. Maybe I'll be able to figure out how to format soon. More (longer) chapters on the way. And before you ask: yes, I am obsessed.

*****

She was still standing there, _smiling_ at him, and he couldn't bear it. He knew her now of course, and it felt unbelievably strange to think there had been a time when he hadn't yet seen her. He shuddered. She had looked different, somehow…

"I can see you do remember." She drifted towards him. So beautiful. _No! Don't even THINK it…_

"So you have a soul now, you think that changes anything? You're still evil." She shook her head. "I could never love you." He huddled against the wall and knew it was true. Her tiny face came closer. 

"But I want to tell you something, William." She knelt beside him and he waited for the blow to land. He deserved it. _I need it._

Instead he felt her hand gentle on his chin, leveling their gaze, and her touch burned him like everything that was holy. He hugged his knees to his hollow chest and opened his eyes.

"I forgive you."

*****

There was no way to know how many days had passed. Time had gone all wonky, and he'd looked for the spot where he had overheard those men talking but the passageways were totally unfamiliar. He just wandered about now, looking for something he recognized. Getting bloody hungry…rats just weren't that filling. No luck yet. 

__

Maybe that hasn't happened yet. Maybe you can't find it because you haven't seen it yet. He laughed. "Stupid."

He was losing his mind, he knew that. Been around Dru long enough to see it and know it for what it was. Seeing things…_seeing her. But maybe that hasn't happened yet either._

"Like it ever would." Not the forgiveness, anyway. Not so soon. Not after…what he had done. _Not strong enough. Can't just pick it all back up again, but I thought—_

"You thought." He heard his own derisive laugh, but it hadn't been him. He hadn't spoken. Had he? _Well this is just great…_

"I think we both know what you thought, mate." The flicker of a lighter in the dark illuminated his face, leaning against the opposite wall. Cool and composed in black leather. The spark went out, but the light stayed.

"God, you look like _shit_!" It shrugged off the wall and flowed towards him, moving just like a tiger. _Burning bright…_

"You thought that this is who you were. Me. That William was long gone." It chuckled as it looked him up and down. Leered. "Man were you _wrong_."

TBC soon.


	3. Dreams

He'd started making idle rhymes a while back, which was upsetting. And it wasn't just the fact that he was still awful at it, either. It was too much like babbling. He couldn't stop. Wasn't in control. Isn't that what this had all been _about_ in the first place, after all? This stupid, sodding soul? Control? _Huh…soul, control._

"DAMN it!" He talked to himself aloud now, and had ceased to care. No one to pretend for. It seemed he dreamed aloud too, if such a thing could be explained. Hallucinated, if you wanted to get all clinical about it.

Or maybe not. This could be Hell. It fit, after all. There was evil here, he could feel it deep down. He'd been so _tired_, after he was metaphysically forced back together. Delirious. Maybe he'd crawled out of the caves, fallen asleep on the still-warm sand, and the sun had found him and taken him where he belonged. 

But that would be too easy. He had a feeling he might have to do it himself.

"Need to get out of here…" He was pacing now, hands in his hair, and where the hell had the bleeding _door_ got to—

"Spike?" Not her, please. Not when he couldn't _think_…

"Ooh, I can see it, can't I? You won't be keeping things from me." She wagged a dagger-tipped finger at him. "Naughty boy."

"I don't have time for this, Dru!" She ignored him, as usual. Her hand grabbed his throat and he was pinned against the wall.

"Don't you want to know what they say?" She asked, pouting. "Urk." Her dark hair tickled his arms as he shoved her away.

"What who say, Dru? The stars? The pixies? The bleedin' Conservative Coalition?" Empty laugh. "Because you can tell them I don't give a flying – Unh!" He gave an involuntary gasp as her razor nails raked down his cheek.

"My silly William. It's the eyes." She giggled, and looked at him like that explained everything. She liked eyes, he recalled. Said they tasted beautiful, like blood and tears. 

"They whisper the things you don't want to say. But I can hear them, always could." She slid her hand up his shirt. "Hear you." Her chin was on his shoulder now, and he could feel her soft hair sticking in the blood on his face. He wanted to kill her, but he couldn't move. "Do you know what they tell me?"

He shook his head. _No…_

She started rocking back and forth, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Cooing, stroking the back of his head like a child's. 

"Don't lie to me, William. I think you do know. Screaming it, you are." The hand on his chest drifted downwards. It felt like ice, even to him.

"Death." She sighed, and licked his cheek.

He roared and pushed her back with all his strength. "Don't you TOUCH me!"

She was laughing. 

*****

The other him was always maddeningly smug. It was disgusting.

"Disgusting, me? Look who's talking, pot." It grinned and gave him a playful little shove. "You can't fob everything off on me, you know. Take some credit, why don't you? I mean _really_, you put me to shame."

"Piss off." 

"Nah, sorry, not gonna. You're in some kind of pathetic denial, and it makes me sick." It wrinkled its nose. "Well, that and the stench."

"Oh, do I offend you? _Ever_ so sorry!" He spat, but it just smiled, tongue in its teeth.

"You always were an awful liar when it mattered, weren't you _William_?" Dripping disdain. "I guess I'll have to _make_ you feel it." _Gonna make you feel it…_

"That's right, you remember! And I have to say, well done." It gave a few exaggerated claps.

"That wasn't me, you fuck. I've changed." He felt an awful sinking.

"Oh, now I get it. You let that ponce convince you." Sneering, it mocked in a high falsetto. "I'm different now. I have a soul. Oh Buffy, it wasn't me!" Inches from his face, now. "Bullshit, and you know it. It wasn't me, that night. It was you. It's always been you."

*****

No structure. It was a problem. Time was he could tell the difference, quite obvious really. Real, not real. But not anymore. Things were too…jumbled. It was all a dream, now.

"Is that what you think this is?" Sunset half-smile. Golden glow. His teeth in her neck… "Because I don't think you're taking this seriously." She walked towards him, and the heat that radiated from her gained soft form. _A cloud…_

He hid his eyes. "No—I am! Promise."

"Look at me then." So he looked up. _She knows._

"Very sorry. Know it's not my place, never…" Trailed off as she nodded.

"That's right, Spike. It's not your place. Not your right. It's mine." She held out her hand and he was filled with a gorgeous, chest-bursting hope. _It's time! _The piece of jagged wood he hid behind his back left splinters in his hand as he pressed it eagerly in her open palm. 

Then she crushed him, smiling. "But not just yet."

*****


End file.
